


cove that hurts and heals

by wallflower_records



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, Emotional Vulnerability, First Kiss, Heart-to-Heart, Honesty, M/M, keith and shiro chat near the water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallflower_records/pseuds/wallflower_records
Summary: Vulnerability, Keith learnt, had a way of sneaking up on you and tearing out your insides before you could say no.





	cove that hurts and heals

Salt water licked at the heels of the rock Keith was sitting on. He was positioned in the undesignated splash-zone, water droplets hitting his face every few minutes, wetting his clothes and hair and making him feel a bit more solid. Shiro was lounged out beside him on a flatter and safer rock, preferring to stay dry; he didn’t like the water as much as Keith did. 

The sun was insistent upon their backs. Usually, a gust of wind would push the heat away, if only for a moment. Not today. There was no air, no current, just the waves and the rocks and the warmth. A perfect end to the their first day of summer. 

“Last two months before we leave,” Shiro said, brushing his good hand against the rock’s rough surface. “Are you ready?”

“I always am.” Keith tried to keep his voice light, but even he could hear how bitter he sounded. The words tasted like stale air. 

In a world where stumbling feet got you crushed and hesitance was a fatal flaw, Keith had learnt the art of fighting. Not the physical kind - though he was quite good at that, too - but the kind where you keep rushing forward even when your mind was bruised. He kept going on in spite of his still heart and tired, exhausted eyes, unseeing and unfeeling. Was he ready? It didn’t matter. 

“Keith…don’t be like that,” Shiro said. “Not with me.” 

Keith had to fight the instinct to look at Shiro. He stared at the calm waves bumping into each other instead, watching them tumble and disappear into shallow depths, not willing to see how earnest Shiro was. The sincerity in his eyes broke him every time. 

“What do you want me to say?” The question was part snippy, part genuine; Keith wanted to know the magic words that could drop the subject and dissolve the tension in the air, but he wished he didn’t have to say anything at all.

“You know you can talk to me, right? You don’t have to be afraid,” Shiro said.

It was strange, really, how something uttered from one mouth with the utmost truth could be heard as an ugly lie though someone else’s ears. 

“I’m not _afraid_ ,” Keith stressed, and he hated how childish it sounded, how childish he felt compared to the man next to him, even though they were both the same age. 

“Are you telling me, or yourself?” Shiro asked. His voice was gentle. Understanding. Keith couldn’t not look at him.

The sun was setting all around them, casting the world with golden hues. The sun’s paint glowed on Shiro’s face, lighting up the colours in his normally dark eyes, turning what had once seemed like a pool of deep brown into flecks of gold and silver. The light shone down on his body - a golden-boy, literally. The colour of his hoodie warmed and accentuated his expression and body language, revealing a person who was relaxed and at peace and sure. How could someone so otherworldly be so human?

“I-” Keith faltered. This was Shiro he was talking to. He reminded himself that he trusted him. Keith ran a shaky hand through his hair, squeezed his eyes shut, and resolved to be open for once in his damned life. “I’m…afraid. Okay? I’m terrified. I’m so fucking scared of the world out there, because I never felt like it wanted me. I don’t fit here.”

His whole life, Keith had been covering himself. He had learnt from a young age that no one liked who he really was. He had heard it from adults first, whispering behind closed doors, and then to his face from his peers - he was too aggressive, too brash, too bold. No one liked someone that serious and guarded. He should lighten up a little. And Keith didn’t know how to talk to them, to be able to explain anything or make himself understood, so they made the choice for him and simply stayed away. 

If you treat someone like they’re unwanted for long enough, eventually they’ll believe it. Keith sure did. 

“I…I don’t think I’ll ever fit _anywhere_. And that scares me.” Keith opened his eyes and stared at Shiro’s boots, too nervous to look at his face and find what expression it held. “There. I said something. Are you happy now?”

Keith’s tone of voice was off, clipped and harsh, sounding angry when he didn’t want it to. He wasn’t mad at Shiro; he was just frustrated with the world. Keith sighed internally at himself for always covering up with anger, because now any time he tried not to, he couldn’t. It was conditioned in him.

Shiro, the saint he was, seemed to to understand. He didn’t take it personally. 

“I’m not happy you feel that way, but I am glad you shared it with me.” 

Shiro pushed himself to his feet and tightroped across his dry rock to Keith’s splashed one. He dropped down beside him, stretching out his legs and knocking his combat boot into one of Keith’s converse, showing affection in a way he knew Keith was comfortable with. 

“You’ll be fine. I know you. You’re going to make a place for yourself, whether the world likes it or not, and then you’re going to live in the most passionate way you can.” Shiro lifted his hand, and it hovered between them for a second, unsure and tentative, before he reached out with the grace one would save for dealing with glass. His fingers brushed back a stray piece of Keith’s bang, tucking it behind his ear. Shiro’s palm found home against his jaw. “You’re amazing. Someday, everyone else is going to realize it, too.”

Keith’s face blazed red. He felt his cheeks heat up, turning his pale complexion into splotches of heat. Coming from Shiro, that compliment was everything; it made his heart soar and crash at the same time, the added hand caressing his face sending it into overdrive. His words were perfect. Even if they weren’t true.

Keith huffed, eyes cast downwards, and Shiro gave him a knowing smile. 

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. So, instead, I’m going to tell you this: who needs the world, anyway? Fuck the world.”

Keith jerked his head away. “Did you just _swear_?”

Never, in the four years of knowing him, had Keith heard a single word of profanity cross Shiro’s lips. 

A hint of a smirk flickered across Shiro’s face. “Maybe.”

“ _Takashi_. Your grandmother will have your tongue.”

Shiro shrugged, his shoulder jostling a part of Keith’s body. “Worth it. I needed to make sure that you to know how much I meant that.”

Keith dared to lean his head lightly against Shiro’s shoulder, nerves coursing through his body at the newfound closeness. The universe didn’t blow up, the sky and the ocean didn’t switch, so he let his weight be held up by Shiro and hoped it was okay with him. When Shiro’s deft fingers began carding their way through the soft strands of his hair, Keith knew he made the right choice. 

Letting himself relax around others was an uphill battle, but with Shiro, it never felt like such. It was easy, just like it was right then - Keith could let his eyes fall shut, let himself enjoy the casual intimacy of a hand in his hair, let the rock they’re sitting on hold him up and dig its rough edges into his thighs and remind him that being alive wasn’t so bad. 

His mind trailed back to Shiro’s words. An icky feeling rose up in his gut, and Keith batted it down as hard as he could. _No_. He was always ruining things, be it opportunities or chances or relationships. But that moment, that temporary magic spell woven between him and Shiro? It was sacred. It was rare. He daren’t touch it. 

It was a shame that his gut tended to win battles against logic.

“You know how you said to fuck the world?” Keith asked, trying so very hard to keep his voice light. 

Shiro’s resounding chuckle jostled his whole head. “Yeah. I’m sort of regretting phrasing it like that, though. Why?”

Keith took in a deep breath and braced himself for animosity. Whereas before he wasn’t trying to insult Shiro or his character, this time he kind of was, and Keith hated that he needed to, hated that he needed to ask about this topic before he soured into something bitter. It was evil for the greater good.

Keith lifted his head from Shiro’s shoulder and physically closed in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest and hugging them.

“That was easy for you to say. You’re Takashi Shirogane, golden-boy of the Garrison. Everybody _loves_ you. You’d have no problem getting rid of the world because it’s always been yours to have. You’ve never had to live without it. Next to me, an unwanted outsider, you’re like- like the epitome of perfect.”

“Keith, don’t say that. You’re not-”

“No. This isn’t about me. I strayed off-topic.” He steeled himself to continue. “The point is, what’s so hard for me just comes naturally to you. You fit in wherever you go, because you’re loved and seen as flawless. And listen, I know you have your imperfections just like everyone else. I know you’re just as human as me.”

Keith huffed out a breath. 

“But you can’t pretend to understand my desire to fit in somewhere. You can’t tell me to throw away the world, because you’ve never had to experience a life without it thrown at your feet.”

Keith felt his heart hammering in his chest, felt the way his gut was congratulating him and how his mind wanted to bury him in the ground. Anxiety flowed through his bones. He had never had a real argument with Shiro before. Sure, they’ve had debates and squabbles, but nothing with any actual heat behind it. Keith wanted the waves to crash up and swallow him whole. 

“Okay, I’m done, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Keith rushed out, trying to plaster a bandaid on what he assumed was a giant wound.

He expected Shiro to be mad. Keith braced himself for harsh words and a painful distance, but those things never came. Instead, a slow, small smile spread across Shiro’s face. “Thank you.”

Keith’s jaw threatened to drop open. 

He could tell when Shiro was being fake from a mile away. There were no traces of that now. In fact, Shiro looked even more at ease than before, body melting into the rock and his face covered in peaceful relief.

“What in the ever-loving-fuck for?” Keith exclaimed. 

That startled a laugh from deep within Shiro’s chest. The spiral of anxiety in Keith’s bones was still present, but the sound drove a few swirls away. “For being open. For being honest. For realizing that I’m just as human as you.”

Shiro reached out for his hand. Keith, still dumbstruck and confused, let him take it, watching in awe as Shiro traced the pad of thumb along his palm. The movement tickled, sending little jolts of electricity underneath his skin, like his body knew how shocking these touches were. It healed as much as it hurt.

“You’re right, by the way,” Shiro said softly. “With most of the things you said. I have always been liked and loved, and fitting in is as easy now as it was years ago. I just-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. I- I feel like a hypocrite, that’s all. Here I am, encouraging you to share things, when I can’t even do that myself.”

His thumb stilled. He lifted Keith’s hand up and placed it gently back on his, Keith’s, leg, at a loss for words and actions. 

“What are you afraid of?” Keith asked, copying the theme of their earlier conversation. While Keith seemed fearless, he knew that he wasn’t, proven by the shakiness in his hands when he was too afraid to fall asleep. But Shiro? He had never seen him be fearful.

Shiro bowed his head. He lowered his voice so much that it went beyond a whisper, and Keith had to strain his ears to hear it. 

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” Shiro murmured. “I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“Shiro,” Keith said, all soft and sad. “Nothing you can say would make me like you any less. You can talk to me, too.”

It was true - Shiro was the one thing Keith couldn’t hate, not even if he tried his very best. That man had him whipped, had had him in his orbit ever since they met freshman year of high school, and Keith doubted there was a force on earth that could change that. No matter where he went in life, Shiro would always hold a piece of his heart. He felt like that love went both ways. He hoped it did. 

“Okay,” Shiro breathed out. He nodded. “People…they put me on a pedestal. And because of that, nobody ever relates to me. They can’t connect.” He shot Keith a grateful look. “Present company excluded, of course.” He sat up higher on the rock, his hands supporting his weight. “They view me as above others, as a golden boy, as someone who’s _perfect_. Everyone likes the great golden-boy, but they turn a blind eye when they see a lonely kid who feels just as left out as you do.”

Shiro sighed.

“And at some point, I realized that the world doesn’t want _me_ ; it wants the _idea_ of me. That’s why I’m put on a pedestal. And try as I might, I can never get down. I want to dig my feet into the dirt and smash my cheeks against the grass, but they don’t care. They won’t let me.”

Shiro’s head hung low. It was out of place for a guy as built as him, presenting him as bashful and fearful and someone who was vulnerable.

“They act like they love me, Keith. And I appreciate it, I do, you have to believe that, but it’s all _fake_. None of them actually know me.” 

Keith understood what he was saying. He had seen Shiro at school, surrounded by different groups, chatting and laughing, the smile on his face never quite seeming genuine. He talked and they all listened, but it was only to partake in the conversation, not to actually hear him. A dusty lightbulb went off in Keith’s head. 

“Pedestals are lonely places,” Keith said softly.

“Yeah.”

“The opposite of pedestals are lonely, too.”

“Yeah.” Shiro knocked his shoe with his own again. “I’m six-feet-over and you’re six-feet-under.”

It was quite an image - two guys, one raised up and one pushed down, both experiencing the same kind of hardships in different ways. One loved and one exiled, but both still feeling like they were all alone. Maybe that was why they got along so well. 

“I’m not _dead_ ,” Keith exclaimed, knocking his shoe back. 

“No, but your hairstyle is.”

Keith sputtered. “Stop listening to Lance! I make this look cool, okay?”

Shiro laughed, loud and open and free, and it finally loosened the suffocating emotions Keith had gathered inside of himself. They were okay. They were more than okay. There was a gash somewhere inside of him, ripped open and torn raw from the honesty, and Keith couldn’t admit that it was a bad kind of hurt. It felt like his insides were taken out and put on display, but that kind of vulnerability was okay, it was fine, because it was Shiro. They were safe together. 

Everything went quiet. The only sound was the dying waves tumbling and turning, setting down for the night. 

“I think your hair looks cute, actually,” Shiro said, breaking the silence. He swallowed, fiddling with material of his pants. “As a matter of fact, I think the rest of you looks cute, too.”

Seeing the blush appear into existence across the bridge of Shiro’s nose was truly a gem. It was a pastel pink, running up his cheeks to the tips of his ears, making his embarrassment known. Keith thought that he must look similar, because when Shiro turned to him with open, hopeful eyes, well, his face flamed just like it had earlier.

Keith knew he was not reading these signals wrong. If there was any hint of doubt in his mind, he would hang back, not willing to jeopardize the only true friendship he had, but saying that whatever there was between wasn’t mutual would be a lie. He knew what the soft touches meant, the ones that were intimate in a gentle and pure way. You’re weren't supposed to blush that much complementing a friend. 

Keith was brash. He was bold. And for once in his life, those qualities were going to be a positive.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, reaching out to find hold on Shiro’s hip. Keith felt how warm he ran through the layers of his clothing, and this close he could feel the heat from the rest of him, too. 

In lieu of answering, Shiro moved forward and pressed his lips against his. 

The first thing Keith noticed was how _soft_ it felt. Keith’s lips were chapped, dry and cracked from negligence and no effort, but Shiro’s were as light as a cloud. He must use chapstick, Keith decided. There was no way they’d feel so plush otherwise.

It was a slow kiss. They were in no hurry, not driven by lust but rather by a simple need to convey emotions. The kiss said: _I like you back, you’re important to me, you’re someone I could love. Someone I already do_. 

Shiro threaded a hand up behind his neck and pulled him closer. Keith nearly fell into his lap, settling for having one knee on the rock and the other between Shiro’s spread legs. Both of Keith’s hands found their way to his sides, keeping himself upright, thumbs rubbing into his hipbone. He could see the moment Shiro’s eyes started to darken.

Keith felt something tug at his lower stomach. He would have liked to continue this, but they were in public, out in the open air, and all of this was pretty new to him, anyway.

“It’s getting late,” Keith said, pulling a bit farther away. His voice was hoarser than he expected. “Do you want to stay a bit longer?”

Shiro nodded. “Let us be.”

Keith shuffled down to glue himself to Shiro’s side, tucking his body under his arm. 

The physical contact was nice. Keith was heady off the fact that he could finally reach out and _touch_. Not only that, but both of them had also touched something deeper, something once well hidden that could now see the light of day. He felt wounded and healed at the same time.

Vulnerability, Keith learnt, had a way of sneaking up on you and tearing out your insides before you could say no.

“Why does being honest hurt so much?” Keith asked before he could catch himself.

Shiro looked down at him. He tightened his arm around Keith, bringing him closer. 

“It does, doesn’t it?”

The sun finished setting. The waves almost stilled. Two guys laid on the rocks. 

Vulnerability might hurt in the moment, it might break the bones that held you up and squeeze at your heart until it bled, but once it was over, once everything was out in the open, once your emotions were on your sleeve and nothing hid them anymore, nothing could compare to the relief, to the connection, to the joy of being honest. 

Even if it hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first ever genuine fic I've written and posted. I hope you enjoy :D


End file.
